


You ok, Brother?

by pantykinksam



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean has an irrational fear, M/M, Protective Sam, Thunderstorms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-20
Updated: 2015-08-20
Packaged: 2018-04-16 08:45:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4618971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pantykinksam/pseuds/pantykinksam
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam loved thunderstorms. Dean? Not so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You ok, Brother?

**Author's Note:**

> Protective Sam isn't always my thing but thIS.

Sam loved thunderstorms. Not the weak ones, where the rain fell in pitter-pats on his windowsill, barely noticeable when he was up against Dean’s chest on the couch, watching Forrest Gump for the millionth time that month because hell, it was Sam’s all time favorite, and Dean could chill, the faint sound of rumbling thunder rolling through the sky and a short flicker of the lights once in a while. The big ones, where the thunder jumps up and bites you in your seat, sneaks up on you like the flash flood afterwards, and you have no choice but to pray for the lights to come back on and burrow under mounds of blankets, waiting out the storm. Sam /really/ loved thunderstorms. Loved the blinding light that lit up the sky, the clouds fuzzy and dark, wet roads and misty air surrounding the bunker. Dean? Not so much. He liked thunderstorms just about as much as he liked flying, so basically not at all. Hated it with a passion, actually. The thing about Dean too, was that he could //sense// the fucking storm, hours before it happened; would stick his dorky ass finger in the air, frown, and nod, shaking his head, mumbling about how he was sure rain was gonna ruin his bloody night. Sam always laughs and smacks Dean’s ass, rolling his eyes. He’d stroll over to the couch and pat the seat next to him, raising an eyebrow. Sam thought it was kinda cute, actually, how every clap of thunder made Dean jump, and his knees shake, gritting his teeth. In the back of his mind, Sam considered it to be a side effect of PTSD, how it was all too much like the familiar sound of gunshots to him, but he shrugged it off, kissing Dean’s neck and rubbing small circles into the meat of his shoulders, soothing-like with a chuckle. “S’okay, Dean. S’just some thunder, kay? Why don’t you go to the kitchen and get us some more beer, and we can sit back and chill for a while, ok?” he murmured against Dean’s ear, smirking as Dean’s eyes lit up like the sun behind the clouds, a shiver down his spine as he remembered the storm. Dean would almost always shrug, scurrying back into the kitchen and yelping when the lights flickered and the ground practically shook with the strength of the thunder. “You doing ok in there, brother?” Sam would laugh, shaking his head. Never any answer though. Always an excuse like Dean stubbed his toe, or he cut himself on a beer cap. But Sam knew Dean, and if Dean Winchester was to yelp at anything, it was a fucking storm. Another thing was, whenever the weather got really bad, even if it took some coaxing, considering he wasn’t the cuddling type, Dean would let Sam hold him like he used to hold Sam when they were kids. One of Sam’s favorite things, actually, especially when it got real dark and Dean had no choice but to crawl back against Sam’s chest and whimper and pout about it. He’d never tell Sam, but maybe he made such a big deal out of it because it was nice to be babied and cared for some days, and by the time the next storm rolled around, he really /really/ needed it.


End file.
